


Our Story in Bed

by Katydid_99



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Bed Peace, Beds, Civil Rights Movement, Complicated Relationships, Death, F/M, Historical, Historical Accuracy, History Spoilers, Infidelity, John Lennon's Death, Mourning, Poetry, Vietnam, poem, the bed is a metaphor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-18 03:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21720685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katydid_99/pseuds/Katydid_99
Summary: On the 39th anniversary of John Lennon's murder, here's a poem.
Relationships: John Lennon & Yoko Ono, John Lennon/Yoko Ono
Kudos: 13





	Our Story in Bed

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not here to debate if Yoko was good or not, or if her and John's relationship was good. I'm here because 39 years ago years ago today a woman was about to get out of a car only to see her husband get shot five times in the chest. Because she watched him bleed out in a hospital bed at age forty. Because we still remember this story today.

Our story started in bed.

Stolen touches,

Stolen kisses, 

Stolen moments in bed.

A beautiful boy.

Hands tangled in my black hair,

Body tangled in my white sheets-

Our white sheets.

Him tangled into me,

My beautiful boy.

Nothing else mattered:

Promises.

Obligations.

Vows.

We broke them all.

We were destroying worlds,

But I was with him

And he was with me 

And that was all that mattered.

We told our story in bed.

We no longer had to hide

And we no longer had to destroy;

The world was doing a fine enough job of doing that herself.

Everyone else took to the streets,

The jungles,

The city halls-

We took to bed.

The others couldn’t understand it,

But by God they tried.

Interviews,

Recording,

Photographs

Of us cuddled together-

Brown blending into black-

Impossible to tell where you ended

And I began.

Peace

At long last.

Reporters filling our bedroom for days on end,

Everyone begging for a place in our bed.

Our story ended in bed.

The photographer wanted us both naked.

I refused,

But you were never so shy.

You gushed over the final prints.

Over my dark eyes and dark clothes and dark hair

Fanned over our white sheets,

Like spilled ink.

But I only had eyes for you.

Your long tan body

Curled around me

Like a miniature galaxy.

Freckles like stars.

You had giggled and teased during the shoot,

Digging your nose into my neck to make me laugh,

But in the photos you’re still.

Peaceful.

My galaxy.

My entire world.

If I’d known what was to come after, 

I’d have begged you to stay home

Stay in bed

Anything if it meant you didn’t go out that day

Because we destroyed the world

And the world destroyed herself.

Now it was time for the world to destroy us.

You died in a bed that wasn’t your own.

I sleep alone now.

**Author's Note:**

> For better or worse, she loved him and he loved her. Was it worth it? They certainly thought so.
> 
> And that's all I have any rights to say about that.


End file.
